


How to seduce a Gryffindor

by marinstan



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Bottom Harry Potter, Draco/Pansy friendship, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Fluff, Harry works in an orphanage, Implied Childhood Sexual Abuse, M/M, Pining, Slow Burn, Smut, Top Draco Malfoy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-31
Updated: 2020-07-31
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:07:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25631782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marinstan/pseuds/marinstan
Summary: Draco wants Harry. Too bad that Harry Potter is not easily seduced.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 27
Kudos: 403





	How to seduce a Gryffindor

**Author's Note:**

> I know the summary makes it sound like this story is about sex, but it's really about love.   
> Happy reading everyone!

When Draco first sees Harry again, he thinks he shouldn't be surprised. It has always seemed weird to him that everyone was so convinced Harry would be an Auror. Those people must be oblivious to the fact that a sane person doesn't court danger after having died once already.

Not to say that Harry is sane. Draco's always been rather sure that the Gryffindor is just as fucked up as the rest of them.

But not in the way many others are. Not like Blaise, who rents prostitutes to slap around, because if he doesn't, he'll blow up his small, shabby office. Not like Millicent, who hasn't been seen since she – accidentally or maybe not so accidentally – set fire to Headauror Robards' house. Not even like Pansy, who only has sex with men if they let her fuck them.

Harry Potter might be a huge fuck-up, but he's never been a sadist. His fucked-upness is actually _good_ for other people – if not always for himself.

Draco knows this, because he has been watching him. It started after the Battle of Hogwarts, when Harry spoke for him at his trials. To this day, Draco isn't sure if he did so because he felt like he _had_ to, because he couldn't bear being responsible for just one more person suffering at his hands, or because he genuinely thought Draco didn't deserve Azkaban.

Draco pretends he doesn't care about the reason.

Anyway, after the trials – when Draco moved in with Pansy, sharing a flea-riddled bed with her – when Goyle killed himself – when Granger established her charity – Draco began watching Harry.

Struck with a brain-dead office job, there wasn't that much else to fill his time with. Plus, it's just so hilariously easy.

Harry is everywhere. The Prophet is following his every step.

When he proposed to the She-Weasel, Draco smoked a whole package of cigarrettes in one go. Pansy had frowned at him, hearing his raspy voice, watching the gleaming stubs in the ash tray.

When Harry almost got killed by some filth who fancied himself a Neo-Death-Eater, Draco hunted said filth down and broke his wand, then carving some rather crude words into his forearm.

When Harry bought an orphanage and made it his own, Draco thought it made perfect sense. He also thought it might make Harry pathetic, but even though Draco _knows_ he _does_ find Harry pathetic, he just has to give him some probs for not doing what everyone expected of him. As far as Draco knows, this was the first time he's ever done that in his life.

Of course, the public adjusted rather quickly to Harry's change in career. They were a little confused at first, begged him for a week or so to come back ( _the Aurorforce needs the Saviour!_ ), but in the end, tending to poor, abandoned little urchins was a respectable occupation for their Golden Boy. Suddenly, everyone seemed quite understanding that Harry wanted to _ground himself_ and _lead a quiet life_ and _prepare for having his own_.

There hasn't been any hint of the She-Weasel soon popping out some brats of her own, but it is understood that that's only a matter of time.   
Draco has the hunch that the Weaselette might actually be less thrilled about the prospect of playing housewife than people might think. Last Draco has heard, she's a rather brilliant Chaser. The Holyhead Harpies have never been this good.

Draco hates her for being good at Quidditch. There have been numerous times when he was heavily tempted to track her down and end her blooming career with a flick of his wand. But he's never done that and probably never will.

When Draco first sees Harry again – really _sees_ him, meets him, not just watches him from a safe distance – it's at Harry's orphanage.

Draco isn't there for himself, obviously not. He's there because of Blaise.

No one has been more surprised than Blaise himself when fell in love. No one has been more surprised than Draco that it was with a woman. It's not like Draco didn't know Blaise wasn't entirely gay, but it was hard to remember that when Blaise had spent a considerable amount of time in his late teenage years begging for Draco's cock.

But, apparently, his cock hasn't been good enough for Blaise not to return to pussy eventually.

He was twenty-four when he met Manon, a French, very pretty, very rich, very much infertile psychotherapist.

Now, at age twenty-six, the couple has decided it's time to adopt. Draco hasn't held back his doubts – that it's too fast, that Blaise still can't live without his rent boys, but Blaise didn't care.

So here Draco is, standing in Harry's office, still half-busy coming to terms with the fact that his first lover is now about to be a father.

It's not really that Draco wants a relationship with Blaise. But he did love to fuck him. It's sad that this will now be over for good.

He looks around in Harry's tiny office, his crisp shirt feeling too tight.

„Gryffindors,“ he remarks. „Always messy.“

Blaise doesn't laugh. Manon says she thinks it's a pretty office.

„Sorry, I'm a little late,“ Harry says, bursting into the room.

He's wearing muggle clothes – while he's _working_ he's wearing _muggle clothes –_ and his hair looks like a bird would've nested in it. Apparently, no one has ever, in all those years, told Harry that his glasses look ridiculous. The man is a mess, as Draco suspected he would be.

Afterall, it hasn't even been six months since he broke it off with the She-Weasel.

Harry freezes when he first notices Draco.

Draco smirks. „Hello, Potter. Lovely office.“

Harry blinks at him and adjusts his glasses. „Malfoy. I... didn't know you'd come.“

Blaise steps forward. „I asked him to. He's going to be the godfather. But if it bothers you, we can...“

„No, no. It's perfectly alright, I – yeah. Very nice to see you.“

Draco does have to admit, Harry learned some manners over the years. He can't remember him having any kind of professionalism back in school.

While Harry is asking Blaise all kinds of questions, from hilariously invasive to outright boring (Draco isn't sure how it would affect a kid in any way whether Blaise likes to play Quidditch or not), Draco takes notice of every single detail surrounding Harry.

It's strange to actually see him in person. Draco could talk to him. After the appointment is over, he could just walk up to him, take his arm, look into his eyes and say: _I want to fuck you, Potter_. _I've been wanting to since precisely fifteen years ago and you will spread your legs for me now._ He could do that and watch Harry's face. The crazy, crazy thing about that is – part of Draco believes Harry would say yes.

When Harry first sees Draco again, he is surprised. Merely the fact that Draco Malfoy is about to be a godfather seems out of character. He almost asks Zabini if he thought that one through. Draco doesn't really appear to be godfather-material.

But then again, neither was Sirius, yet Harry loved him with everything he has, so he decides that it's none of his business and goes through with the meeting.

It's difficult for Harry to concentrate on the Zabinis when Draco is there.

Harry has stopped watching Draco after the trials. It was time to grow up and growing up entailed stop turning into a stalker whenever Draco Malfoy so much as peeped. The war was over and life awaited.

Draco was past.

And despite that, despite Harry not watching Draco, he still finds he knows quite a lot about the blond. He can't say why or how.

He knows that he lives with Parkinson and he assumes they are a couple, even though there have been rumours of Draco with men.

He knows that Draco's parents are both dead – Lucius died during his first week in Azkaban and Narcissa died during the first week after her release. Harry doesn't know how, exactly.

He also knows that Draco sometimes gets in serious trouble with criminals of all sorts, because that's what Ron tells him. But even though Ron is a brilliant Auror, better than Harry has ever been, he never caught Draco.

Harry finds it almost funny how worked up Ron gets over that fact and then he feels guilty for finding it funny.

He doesn't find it funny how Draco is taking his office apart with his eyes. He probably should have cleaned up a bit, but there's never time. Plus Harry _hates_ cleaning. He gets anxious when he does it.

„Okay, Mrs. and Mr. Zabini,“ Harry says after a tense hour of questioning. „We will schedule a visit of your home as soon as possible and decide afterward whether your application will be approved.“

„Thank you so much,“ Mrs. Zabini says, shaking Harry's hand. Harry likes her. She seems very down-to-earth.

He escorts the three visitors to the door. Zabini nods at him before taking his wife's hand and heading down the hallway.

Draco lingers and Harry suddenly has trouble recalling if the little scar on Draco's neck is new or if he's always had it.

When Draco takes his arm, Harry wonders if he should draw his wand. Grey eyes look at him and Harry notices another little scar, right over his left eyebrow.

„We should get a drink some time,“ Draco says and Harry thinks his eyes look silver.

„No.“ Harry pulls his arm away.

Under Draco's pale skin, his veins are roadmaps of blue lines.

„Alright. When shall I ask you again?“

Harry averts his eyes for a moment, then meets Draco's. „Never. It was nice to see you again.“

„Perhaps -“

Draco shrinks when Harry fixes him with a deep frown. „I'm not sure why you're so very confident that I don't hate you all of a sudden. But you should leave.“

Harry can tell that Draco is surprised by his words. That makes sense. It was, more or less, understood between them that they didn't hate each other. They probably never have.

But Harry wants Draco to leave.

So Draco does.

It takes Draco six months and at least ten times the amount of vodka bottles, but in the end, he gets the job he's been jumping through hoops for.

„He won't let you,“ Pansy tells Draco, helping herself to his vodka.

„You know nothing about him, darling.“

Pansy hitches one shoulder. „Neither do you.“ She takes another sip, dark eyes still frighteningly clear. „He won't let you.“

Draco gives her one of his very faint, very crooked smirks.

„We'll see about that.“

Draco's first day at the orphanage is a disaster. He's only supposed to be doing the dull paperwork, but somehow, he finds a way to complicate even the simplest of records.

„Why, Potter. You don't want me to be a slob, do you?“ Draco smirks up at Harry and Harry is absolutely certain that this has been a mistake. He's known that before and he's still not sure why he gave Draco the job in the first place. Fae, his assistant, did nag and did push him, yes, but Harry usually doesn't let himself be pushed. Not anymore.

„I can always fire you,“ Harry tells Draco. „There are countless other candidates who could do the job.“

The way Draco looks up and down Harry's body makes his hands and feet go numb. His heart starts racing. It'll soon fall into a deep winter sleep.

„Oh, but I don't think there are.“

Briskly, Harry turns away. He breathes, like Hermione told him to.

„I'm going to fire you,“ he says and then he takes off to catch Ron for lunch.

Harry doesn't fire Draco. But he doesn't really talk to him anymore, either. Draco is confused. He doesn't know what he's done wrong.

He stops being a brat about the paperwork, even though it is dull and partly inefficiently organised. Harry won't want to be fucked by someone acting like a petulant fifteen-year-old. Draco needs some grace and dignity.

„Harry is complicated,“ Fae tells him, her hip leaning against his desk. Draco suspects she might have a little crush on him. That suits him very well.

„I'm sure,“ he says, nodding, eyes full of sympathy. „He's been asked a lot.“ Fae notices that he's buttered up too thickly and Draco mentally slaps himself.

He's usually better at this.

„You don't really understand,“ she says. Pushes herself off her desk.

Before Draco can come up with anything else to say, she has left.

Draco makes it his mission to do his job and do it very well. Clearly, Harry loves his little project and he, sadly, seems to have employed Draco because he believes in his ability. Not because he dreams about his cock.

Draco does intend to change that, but for now, being a good little minion might be the best approach.

Weeks drag on and all Draco does is fill out reports and forms and go over letters and applications and drink coffee after coffee. He brings Harry coffee, too. Everytime he does, he'll say: „Good morning, Potter,“ or „Why aren't you with Caitlyn right now? Fae said she's still crying,“ or sometimes „That wallpaper looks _atrocious_. Care to hire an interior designer?“

Harry will usually respond with a hum or a: „Morning, Malfoy,“ and on rare occasions, he'll ask „How's it going? I hope you're not too bored.“

„He doesn't want me,“ Draco tells Pansy one drunken night.

Pansy merely lifts a brow, but Draco knows she's astonished he just admitted defeat.

„Well. I know you're unwilling to recognize that, but not every bloke likes cock.“

Draco just grumbles something. He really _is_ unwilling to believe that.

„I don't understand,“ he says and drains his glass. The world is rather blurry.

„I just tried to explain.“

He pulls Pansy closer, between his legs and rests his chin atop her head.

„Will you quit now?“ Pansy asks. He's not entirely sure whether she means his job or his mission.

„No,“ he says. No need for clarification. The answer will stay the same in any case.

„You're doing it again, Draco.“

He can feel the tiny, but strong muscles of her belly under his hands.

„Doing what?“

„Making yourself unhappy.“

He sighs. „Shut your mouth, Pansy.“

It's when Harry finally trusts Draco to do his job the way he's supposed to that he decides to sack him afterall.

Draco strides into the office with the usual eight-am-coffee. Harry smiles at him and takes the cup.

„Thank you.“

Instead of nodding, insulting one or the other item in his office and then leaving, Draco crowds in closer. His free hand lands on Harry's hip.

„I'm bored,“ he says. „Your dull paperwork bores me.“

He puts his cup on Harry's desk. Harry can't breathe.

A long-fingered hand cups his cheek. „Entertain me, Potter.“

Draco's expression is one of pure shock when Harry makes him fly across the office, slamming into a shelf. A book hits Draco's forehead and he starts bleeding.

Harry doesn't care. „Get out. You're fired.“

„I -“

„You. Are fired. I'm not joking.“ Harry's hands are shaking. „Get out, Malfoy.“

Draco stares at him, his blood appearing darker than normal blood against his white, white skin. Harry feels like he is about to vomit.

„Harry -“

The shelf behind Draco starts burning and that's when Draco finally leaves and Fae rushes into the room.

She puts out the flames for Harry, then rests a light hand on his shoulder. „Are you okay?“

Harry nods. He doesn't really trust his voice.

„Is Malfoy?“

Fae rolls her eyes. „Yeah. He's fine. Just a little shocked, but I'm sure he deserved it.“

Harry isn't as sure, but he _is_ sure – very, very sure – that he never wants Draco in his office ever again.

Draco tries to apologise for weeks, but Harry won't hear him out.

It's pure luck that Draco is ever allowed in the orphanage again. Caitlyn runs away and while Draco has never exchanged even just one word with her (he wasn't really wanted around the kids), he knows what she looks like and even manages to talk her down. She is only five years old, and despite what she already must have been through, still isn't immune to sweets and soft-spoken words.

„You found her,“ Harry says. Draco can't read his face.

„Yes. Potter -“

„Thank you,“ Harry says and closes the door in front of Draco's nose, while Fae leads little Caitlyn back to her room, crooning to her, always looking over her shoulder back at Draco.

„Harry,“ he tells the door. „I apologise. I never meant to insult you.“

The door opens again. Draco can barely believe it.

„I'm not insulted,“ Harry says, but his face is still stone.

„Well,“ Draco says, shifting his weight. He has given up appearing strong and unshakable in front of Harry. It cleary didn't work out in his favour.

„I'm sorry for setting that shelf on fire.“

Draco's lips quirk. „That was a bit extreme, yes.“

„It was uncalled for. Sorry.“ Harry avoids his gaze and Draco's heart is trying to outrun itself.

„I'd really like to have my job back,“ Draco says.

Harry looks at him, all blazing green eyes. „I won't have sex with you.“

„Yes. You got the message across.“

Harry's frown deepens. His face is dark. „I told you before. I told you several -“

„Yes, yes. I'm aware. I did say I'm sorry, didn't I?“

Harry lingers. „Then why do you want your job back?“

Draco hitches one shoulder like Pansy does. „Because I'm good at it. And it's better than that horrible office job I worked before.“

It takes Harry so long to answer that Draco almost grabs and shakes him. At least spits something cruel into his face.

But in the end, he doesn't do anything. Just waits and stares.

„Okay,“ Harry finally says. Reluctantly. „You can have your job. Just -“

„I know. Thank you.“

He nods, suddenly looking away, and closes his door again.

„Hi,“ Harry says when he walks into Draco's office. It's a first. He has never more than stuck his head through the door and even that only very, very rarely.

And now he's walking into Draco's office. Draco puts his quill down, heartrate rising.

„Did something happen?“ Harry doesn't look like anything happened, but it _might_ have. Otherwise, Draco can't explain his presence in his office.

„Not really. But it's Friday.“

„Yes, Potter. I know the days of the week.“

„Friday is Funday.“

Draco arches his brow. Harry shoves his hands into his pockets.

„I'm pretty sure that's Sunday. But go ahead.“

„No, I meant – We go out with the kids every Friday. To lunch. Or get ice cream. Or anything, really. The day is supposed to be special and fun.“

Draco can't stop the quirk in his lips or the amusement in his voice. „Hence the name of the day.“

Harry shrugs. „Yeah.“

„Well, Fae mentioned it to me.“ But Draco is not invited. He's never invited because Harry doesn't trust him.

„Did she? Good. So, are you coming?“

The question is hilarious.

„It sounds like it might be slightly more _fun_ than being stuck in this stuffy room for five more hours, so... yes. I'll come.“

„Great. I'll pick you up in thirty.“

Harry almost smiles.

Draco has been wrong. Going out for ice cream with twelve kids from the age of three to fourteen isn't fun in the least. Actually, it is quite the _opposite_ of fun.

Draco will petition the name of the day shall be changed.

Little Georgie is lactose-intolerant and the ice cream shop doesn't have ice cream without lactose, so Fae makes a run for the next grocery store, leaving Draco responsible for _six_ kids all at once.

Draco doesn't even like kids.

Harry does. He smiles at the little devils and seems to have a resort of endless patience, listening to their rambling. Draco wants to gnaw on his own arm when Jaylin, a ten-year-old, snotty nosed little _brat_ , just won't shut the hell up about rollercoasters.

„Maybe you should write an essay about them,“ Draco says distractedly, trying to wipe melted ice cream off Daisy's chin.

Jaylin pouts. „That would be weird. No one'd read it.“

„Yet. If you practice, your handwriting might become readable some day.“

The boy is still scowling. „But who'd read something about rollercoasters from someone who's never even ridden one?“

Draco stills for a moment. Then bristles and finally manages to get Daisy in a firm enough grip to clean her face. She starts crying.

„Brooms are way more fun anyway,“ he says curtly. „You'll see once you get to Hogwarts.“

Draco more or less barges into Harry's office, only to find it already occupied by Caitlyn and Daisy. The both of them have taken a liking to Harry, especially Caitlyn.

„I'll bring it tomorrow,“ Harry says, as always, patience embodied. Draco wants to punch him in the face.

Caitlyn grabs the leg of his trousers (she can't reach much higher) and blinks up at him. Harry gently pushes her hands away and steps back.

„You promise?“ she asks and takes Daisy's hand.

„Yeah, of course. I'll see you guys tomorrow, alright?“

When the girls are gone, Harry looks at Draco. Just a little warily.

Just like he usually doesn't visit Draco's office, Draco usually doesn't visit his. Anymore.

„We should go to the fair,“ Draco announces, crossing his arms. Harry lifts his brows. He smiles.

„Oh, yeah?“

Draco flaps his hand, annoyed. „Yes. Every kid should have to suffer through it at least once.“

„You don't like fairs?“

Draco glares at Harry. The Gryffindor really does drive him up the walls. „They are the worst, Potter. The _worst_. Surely, you'd agree with me.“

Harry shrugs. „I wouldn't really know. But I guess we could go to the fair some day.“

„Next Friday,“ Draco says and it's not a question.

Harry rolls his eyes. „Yes, sir.“

Harry has never been to a fair before. He obviously never went as a kid and certainly not as an Auror and during his time working at the orphanage, it simply didn't occur to him. Fae once took three kids as a farewell gift of a sort. But Harry didn't have time then.

Now Draco makes sure he has, wich Harry finds kind of annoying. Even though he is touched by how much Jaylin's words apparently moved the Slytherin. He didn't expect it.

The day at the fair is as stressful as it is glorious. Fae guides them all and Draco is constantly on edge.

„You can't just let them _walk_ in there, Potter,“ he spits as Harry loses sight of Daisy for a moment and she winds up in a mirror cabinet.

They get chips and cotton candy and Harry has to remind himself time and again that he's here for his kids. Draco eyes him as he stares at the cotton candy he hasn't ever eaten.

„If I get you some of that,“ he says, nodding at the pink fluffy cloud, „Will you ride the rollercoaster with Jaylin?“

„I can get my own sweets, thank you very much. And don't _you_ want to go with him?“

Draco looks at him in indignance. „Are you mad, Potter? I am not riding a rollercoaster.“

Then he buys cotton candy for Harry and sits next to Jaylin on the rollercoaster. He gets back with his hair a mess, cheeks pink and a truck load of insults for Harry.

Harry grins.

„You're a hypocrite,“ he tells Draco.

The Slytherin averts his gaze. „What else is new.“

Harry doesn't really like his lonely flat all that much, which is why, more often than not, he sleeps at the orphanage. There is a little staff room with a lovely couch just down the hallway and he usually finds said couch preferable over his own bed.

It's only when Draco starts getting coffee for him again that the blond catches on to that.

„Wow, Potter. That is pathetic,“ he says. Harry says nothing.

That evening, he finds a new blanket and a fluffy pillow on the couch. When he asks Draco about them the next day, the Slythering flaps his hand, faintly annoyed. „If you're going to be weird, you might as well be comfortable.“

Rather deep in his paperwork, it takes Draco some momemts to realize Harry hasn't moved. He's still standing in the Slytherin's doorframe.

„Anything else? I'm rather busy here.“

It takes Harry a couple tries. Then he says: „Thanks, Draco. That's... very nice of you.“

Draco looks at Harry for a long moment. When he opens his mouth, Harry is quicker and says: „If you still want to have sex with me, don't tell me. I don't want to know.“

Draco closes his mouth again. Lifts his brow. „I was going to say: It's just a silly pillow. But I'll remember that.“

Blushing, Harry turns away. „A pillow and a blanket,“ he mutters.

„Pardon me?“

„I said, a pillow and a blanket are not silly.“ Harry would know.

He can't be sure, but he thinks Draco swallows.

After that incident, Draco starts spoiling Harry. Harry can't find another word for it.

But he does it so well, so subtley, that Harry can't call him out for it like he'd do with an overboarding fan or anyone of the likes. No.

Harry will find a fresh cup of coffee or a pastry on his desk with some silly note. He'll find a new quill after his broke. He'll find Draco coaxing children away from him when it gets too much.

One time – only one time – he asks Draco: „Are you doing this to get me to sleep with you?“

Draco looks at him evenly. „No,“ he says and Harry believes him.

„Then why?“

Draco hitches one shoulder in that elegant way of his. His hair gleams in the sunlight filtering through the window.

„Because I like to.“

Pansy was right. Draco didn't know anything about Harry.

Usually, that's the first step of _really_ getting to know someone: You realize that most of the assumptions you made about them are wrong.

Draco knew that Harry is not an attention seeker. He didn't realize how much Harry actually really hates attention coming from random people. Neither did he realize how much Harry actually _loves_ attention coming from the right person.

Harry is a sucker for all the little things Draco does for him. He tries to hide it, but Harry is bad at hiding his emotions.   
It takes Draco quite long until he realizes that Harry mostly hides his delight about Draco's little gifts because he's afraid Draco will stop giving them as soon as he notices. It doesn't make much sense, clearly flawed logic, but Draco is sure that it's the truth.

Draco also learns that Harry doesn't like to be touched. He's not sure if he's known that before. He can't remember. But it's clear now, especially with the children of the orphanage. Harry never touches them if he can help it. He always brushes off their affectionate little gestures, pushing small hands away that like to claw at his clothes.

It's so noticable that Draco even asks Harry: „Is there a policy about touching?“

„What?“

Harry almost drops his quill.

„Are we not supposed to touch the kids? I know it's protocol at some schools.“

Harry shakes his head, not looking at Draco. „No. I mean, it makes some kids uncomfortable.“

„Are you suggesting I don't respect boundaries?“

Harry says nothing. Draco feels a little ill.

„If you want me to stay away from them...“

„I don't. I wasn't suggesting anything.“

„Okay,“ Draco says carefully. „I'm just asking because Fae only recently gave me a lecture on how physical contact is important for young children, that it makes them feel loved and safe, blah blah blah. So I thought -“

Harry interrupts him. It's the first time ever that he's outright interrupted Draco. „I trust you to respect the kids' boundaries. There is no no-touching rule.“

Quite baffled, Draco blinks. „Alright.“

„Yeah,“ Harry just says and turns back to his work.

For months, Harry only spends time with Draco when the children are around. So once a week. Every Friday. Some days, of course, they chat in the small staff kitchen, too, but that's different.

That must be why Draco is so surprised when Harry asks him for lunch. Just lunch break during a normal work day. It's nothing. Fae and him do it all the time.

„Sure, Potter,“ Draco says when Harry isn't even finished speaking. The blond sounds bored, which usually means he's not.

They go to a tiny japanese restaurant and Harry watches in amazement that Draco is capable of eating ramen in a dignified manner. Harry feels like a pig next to him.

They talk about Caitlyn and they talk about Daisy's pending adoptions, then they talk about Draco's quills and Harry's wallpaper and then they can't find another work-related topic to talk about.

„I've heard Granger is running a homeless shelter now,“ Draco finally says.

Harry nods and smiles. Hermione's project always fills him with pride. „She does. Especially for magical beings.“

„You mean creatures?“

„She doesn't like to call them that.“

„Oh. I didn't know it was offensive.“

Harry shrugs. „Me neither.“

Draco takes a sip from his lemonade and Harry is irritated why he'd do it like he was drinking wine.

„Is she still with Weasley?“

Harry sighs. „Sometimes. Sometimes not. They... It's difficult.“

„Aren't relationships always?“ Draco says lightly. Harry stays silent. „Blaise and Manon are almost losing their heads about Gabriel.“

Harry startles. He's always very concerned about the children they give away. „It's not going well?“

„Yes, it is. I suppose. But parenthood is not for me.“

He takes another sip from his lemonade.

„You're good with children,“ Harry says because it's true. In his own, rather annoying way, Draco is good with kids.

The Slytherin snorts. His upper lip is wet with lemonade. He licks it.

„I doubt that, but thanks.“ He cocks his head, curiously. „Do you want kids?“

Harry shakes his head. He's been asked that very question every month or so for years now. His answer is always the same. „No, I don't.“

Draco is surprised, Harry can tell. „I'd have thought you would.“

Harry just shakes his head again and drains his glass. „Do you?“ he asks. „Want kids, I mean.“

„Salazar, no. I am not cut out to be a father.“

Part of Harry wants to protest, but then again, he doesn't know Draco _that_ well. And he's a firm believer in not encouraging people to have children if they're not certain they want to.

Draco's pale eyes seem to pin Harry's down. „Is that why it didn't work out with you and the – with you and Ginevra? Because you didn't want to have kids?“

Harry hesitates. Nods. It's partly true, if not the main reason.

„Even though she doesn't want them right now. I think she'd like to fly until she's at least thirty, and that's difficult with kids.“

„I can imagine,“ Draco says, lip curling.

They end up staying at the restaurant way too long, so long in fact, that Fae is rather furious with them when they get back to the orphanage.

Harry really isn't sure he minds.

They've been working together for over a year when Draco finally asks Harry if he's with someone. Draco isn't sure if he'd prefer that over Harry not being queer and not interested in Draco because of that.

Harry doesn't look up when he says: „No. And you?“

Draco is so surprised that he needs a moment to pull himself together.

„No, I'm single.“

„Aren't you living with Parkinson?“ Harry asks, still not looking up.

„I am. But she's not my girlfriend.“

„Ah.“ Harry finally looks up and puts his quill away. The almost imperceptable five o'clock shadow on his face kills Draco. „Do you want to get some coffee?“ He smiles at him while he's asking.

„Yes,“ Draco says. Then: „I'd like to date you.“

Harry looks away again. „Still?“

„Yes. Will you say yes?“

„No.“

Draco doesn't think he's really surprised. More disappointed. Slightly confused.

„Is it because you're not into blokes?“

„I – no.“

„So it's because of me.“

Harry meets his gaze. „Is it going to be a problem? For work, I mean.“

Draco clenches his jaw for a moment. Then he smiles. „Not at all.“

Harry likes Draco. He can't pinpoint when exactly it started. He's not sure how much he likes him. Not like Ron and Hermione, but that's not really a fair comparison. He's known the two forever, stood by them through everything.

Liking Draco is – nice, for the most part. But it also comes with complications.

The first one is the fact that Draco wants Harry, but Harry doesn't want Draco, which means Harry is hurting Draco. And hurting Draco hurts Harry.

The second complication is the fact that Harry likes Draco in a way he's not entirely comfortable with. He likes him differently than he's ever liked anyone before. He has a hunch what this new kind of liking means, but he pushes it away.

He's made his decision and he'll stick with it.

Despite those complications though, it's fairly easy between them – most of the time. That is what astonishes Harry the most. He's never thought that anything involving him and Draco could ever be easy.

Draco tries to stop wanting Harry. He should have known it wouldn't work, because he's already wasted years of his life trying to do exactly that.

So Draco tries to live with wanting Harry. But he's never been good at accepting rejection and defeat. He just can't. He's been raised to take what he wants.

But he doesn't know how to go about taking Harry. He must make him want Draco, but there seems to be nothing Draco can do to achieve that.

The most infurating thing is the fact that Harry _likes_ Draco. Draco is almost sure of that. They're friends now.

Yet Harry doesn't want to be anything else and that's what drives Draco up the walls. It's worse to be liked but unwanted than to be hated and therefore unwanted, Draco finds.

Despite his growing frustration, he keeps his hands to himself and his mouth shut. He does his work and goes for lunch with Harry, tends to the children and deals with fuzzy wanna-be parents.

Only after two full years of working together and being friends, Draco tries again. 

They're sitting in the small staff room in which Harry sleeps, most of the time, and go over the files of the new kid, just arrived. Draco can smell Harry. They're close enough for their arms to brush occasionally and Harry _allows it_ and Draco has problems thinking clearly. He wants Harry so much that he feels like flinging himself off rooftops just for one kiss.

Draco has never, ever wanted to kiss anyone so fucking much and it scares him and he doesn't care.

„I still want you,“ he tells Harry while Harry is reading about how their newest one, Clara, almost died in a car crash along with her parents.

Harry looks up. He looks into Draco's eyes. Draco doesn't move.

„Can I kiss you?“ he asks.

Harry swallows. „I really rather you wouldn't. But if you must...“

Draco frowns and scoots away a little. „What do you mean, if I must?“ He spits the words. He didn't mean to.

Harry is still looking at him out of those green eyes that haunt his dreams.

„I really like you,“ he says, pretty much matter-of-factly. „I don't want to lose you.“

„But you don't want to kiss me,“ Draco observes. He feels cold.

Harry bites his lip. Draco wants to tell him to stop. With a shake of his head, Harry says: „No. I'm sorry.“

Draco wants to scream. He wants to draw his wand and point it at Harry. He wants to destroy his face so he won't have to look at him any more.

He takes a breath and smiles cheerfully. „Alright, then. When can we pick up Clara from St. Mungo's?“

„You have to quit,“ Pansy says, sitting at their wobbly kitchen table, only wearing knickers and a lacy bra, smoking a cigarette.

„I don't see how that's any of your buisness,“ Draco snaps and wriggles into his trousers.

„Potter is making you mental,“ Pansy says, not even bothering to roll her eyes at Draco's ridiculous response.

„He's not.“

Pansy takes another drag, blowing smoke into their tiny flat. They'll be able to afford a new one soon.

„Where are you going?“ she asks, adjusting her bra strap.

„To fuck some stranger's brains out.“

Pansy lifts one eyebrow. Draco is never sure if he's proud or weirded out by how similar their mannerisms have become.

„Have fun then.“

Draco buttons his shirt, leaving the top three open to reveal his smooth chest.

„And stop hanging out with Potter.“

Draco glares at her, then grabs his wand. „I really like him,“ he says. „I don't want to lose him.“

Pansy sighs and gets up from the table, stubbing out the cigarette in their overflowing ash try.

„You're hopeless,“ she says and disappears in the bathroom.

Harry knows he's strange, but he's not stupid. He recognizes a walk of shame when he sees it.

And Draco is doing one right now. It's the first time, as far as Harry knows. But Draco is probably fucking people on the regular.

He certainly isn't shy.

Harry sets down a cup of coffee on Draco's desk, sugar, no milk.

„Morning,“ he says. Draco looks at him only briefly, adjusting his crumpled shirt.

„Morning, Potter.“

Harry turns around and leaves the office, fighting a strange, strange feeling. A feeling he has no business feeling.

But he still does.

Draco's walk of shame becomes a monthly occurrence. More than monthly, actually.

Harry knows, because he has counted.

Draco breezes into Harry's office with a stack of files in his arms.

„Caitlyn is sick again,“ Draco says, dropping the files on Harry's desk. „Fae says we should send her to St. Mungo's. She's worried about the fever and -“

„You shouldn't be coming to work like this.“ Harry gets up. Draco blinks at him.

„Pardon me, what was that?“

Harry makes a vague gesture at Draco's clothes, his messy hair. „It's unprofessional.“

Harry is lucky that Draco isn't _really_ a dragon, because if he was, Harry'd be a puddle of burned flesh right now.

„Are you slut-shaming me, Potter?“ His grey eyes are very, very dangerous.

Harry isn't afraid. But he's embarrassed. Still, he says: „I don't like it when you come to work like this.“

For a moment, he thinks Draco is going to explode and brazes himself. But then, Draco's face changes. He shifts his weight. Crosses his arms and lifts his chin along with his eyebrow. „And why is that, Potter?“

Harry doesn't answer.

„Use your words.“

Harry doesn't.

Draco laughs. „You're jealous.“

„I'm not jealous.“ Harry glances at his hand. _I must not tell lies_.

„Well, then why does it bother you, being reminded I'm fucking other people?“

It was stupid stupid stupid of Harry to confront him. Draco is right.

„I'm sorry,“ he says and turns away.

Draco loses his mind. „You're so fucking pathetic, Potter!“ He says more, raging, but Harry is already gone. Fleeing his own office.

Draco feels horrible. It has been two days since he's lost his temper and Harry has successfully avoided him.

When Draco finally tracks him down in the staff room, his heart is at his throat. Before Harry can bolt again, Draco says: „I'm really sorry. I shouldn't have yelled at you. And I won't be coming into work after – I'll be professional. I promise.“

Harry, standing by the window, doesn't look at Draco. Instead, he looks out and it's almost enough to drive Draco off the edge again, but this time, he doesn't lose it.

„I hate it.“

„What do you hate?“ Draco asks carefully. Harry is the strangest person he's ever met.

Right now, he feels like he doesn't know him at all.

„I hate knowing you're sleeping with other people.“

Harry turns away from the window. He can't see that Draco's jaw has dropped, because he's looking at his hands.

„I know I have no right to, but I'm jealous. I don't want you to fuck other people.“

Draco's head is floating. His heart is racing and he can't stop the smile spreading on his face.

„Is that so?“ he asks, feigning nonchalance, but his face betrays him.

„Yeah.“

Two steps closer. Harry looks into his face.

„I think I've told you several times now that you're the one I really want.“

„But I don't – I don't want you like that.“

It takes Draco everything, every ounce of his willpower, every single tense dinner with his parents, to keep his mouth shut and his breathing calm. To not punch Harry.

„I don't understand. You're jealous of people I fuck, but you don't want me. That doesn't make sense.“

Harry closes his eyes for a moment. He looks pained. „I know.“

It's not like Draco wouldn't know that friends get jealous, too. He's the best example. Or the worst, to be honest.

Whenever Pansy has a lover that stays more than one night, Draco starts to hate him or her. Without any reason other than that Draco goes crazy thinking he might lose Pansy to that person.

But that's different. Meaningless fucks doesn't make him jealous.

„Explain it to me,“ Draco says.

Harry's gaze slides away again. His fingernails are bitten to the quick.

„I don't,“ he says. „With anyone.“

Draco feels his mouth open. Doesn't know what to say. „Never?“

Harry shakes his head.

„What about Ginevra?“

Harry shakes his head again.

„Why?“ Draco can only ask.

„I don't want to,“ Harry says.

Slowly, Draco leans against the wall, next to Harry. He can feel green eyes on him.

„So you're asexual?“

Harry squirms a little. „I don't know. Maybe. I guess.“

Draco looks at him from the side. „You really don't want to at all? Not even kiss?“

Harry starts blushing and Draco knows it's wrong and fucked-up, but he wants Harry even more now. He wants him with an intensity that shocks him.

„I...“

Draco doesn't touch, but he shifts a little closer. Eyes always on Harry.

„I freak out,“ the Gryffindor says. „I don't like it. I'm sorry, I -“

Draco's brows draw together. New questions are now clouding his brain. But he won't ask them today.

„Okay,“ Draco says finally and draws back. He's not certain, but he feels like Harry isn't happy about it.

It happens after a long and exhausting day of renovating two of the children's rooms. Harry didn't plan it.

Draco hasn't asked about him again, hasn't asked to kiss him or touch him or anything. He has also stopped coming into work straight from another bloke's flat. That of course doesn't mean he's stopped sleeping with them.

While Harry is sure that Draco has now finally, officially gave up on wanting to seduce Harry, Harry suddenly can't think about anything else but kissing Draco.

It's madness. He never wanted to kiss anyone. Ginny and him have kissed sometimes and it wasn't _awful_ , but it wasn't good, either. Harry had only indulged her.

The only people he's okay with touching him are Ron, Hermione and Ginny. Sometimes Fae.

He _knows_ he shouldn't do this. One kiss, even if just as an experiment, can do a lot of damage. Harry knows he should be happy that Draco finally believes him when he says he's not interested, happy that Draco gave up.

But he's not. He's not happy about it.

He doesn't know what he wants. All he knows is that he can't think about Draco touching other people without wanting to scream. All he knows is that saying he doesn't want Draco to kiss him feels like a lie.

It has never been. Now it suddenly is.

And because Harry is usually going with the flow, trusting his gut, he finds himself slipping into Draco's office, paint still clinging to his jumper.

Draco looks up, putting his wand away.

„Harry? I was just about to leave. Is there anything else I -“

Harry walks up to him, every step deliberate. He knows he can't think about this too long or he won't do it.

So he simply walks up to Draco, puts one hand on the blond's cheek, and kisses him.

It's a short kiss, just a peck, really. He doesn't feel much, but he doesn't freak out. Draco's lips are softer than they look.

The Slytherin blinks at him. Staring.

Harry's heart is racing, making him feel a little sick. He swallows. „You want me to apologise?“

Draco's eyes are studying Harry's face. Slowly, so slowly, he leans forward and put his mouth on Harry's. This time, Harry does feel things. He feels his galloping heart. He feels Draco's lips. He feels a sense of nausea, but also... something else.

When Draco puts his hand on Harry's waist, Harry flinches back. Draco drops his hand.

They stare at each other.

„Interesting,“ Draco says after a long while. „I thought you don't kiss.“

„Not usually, no.“

„So... are we going to kiss again, or was that a one-time thing?“

Harry hesitates. „If you... Are you even interested?“

Draco rolls his eyes. „I will not say it again, Potter. I do have _some_ dignity left.“

„No, I mean – in kissing. Because I won't sleep with you.“

Draco looks at him in bemusement and Harry is ready to retreat and pretend this has never happend, when Draco says: „Sure. Let's kiss.“

Draco hasn't kissed like this in ages.

Actually, he has never kissed like this at all. Of course, his very first kisses with Blaise hadn't led to sex either, but he can't remember them being this shy. Or skittish.

Harry is _very_ shy and _very_ skittish. When Draco uses tongue the first time, Harry almost aborts the whole mission. Draco has a hard time wrapping his head around the fact that a twenty-eight year old man could freak out at French kissing, but that's Harry's reality, so Draco adapts.

Eventually, Harry does kiss Draco properly, with tongue and everything. It takes a while, but he also eventually allows the Slytherin to pull him close. Caress his waist and his arms.

Never anywhere else. Draco learns quickly to not ever touch him below his waist. He does it once and Harry has a panic attack. Draco almost drowns in guilt. His heart is rabbit fast as he apologizes again and again.

Draco doesn't know much about relationships. He's good at the fucking part.

Harry knows a little about relationships. He's decent at everything but the fucking part.

They struggle to make it work. It gets easier when Harry stops shying away from casual touches. Draco almost loses his mind with bliss when he first notices that, actually, Harry doesn't hate to be touched. He likes it, in fact. If he trusts the person touching him.

And he trusts Draco.

„I don't understand,“ Pansy says when Draco firsts tells her about his „relationship“ (or whatever it is) with Harry. „So you're snogging. But you don't fuck. At all?“

„Yup,“ Draco says, taking a drag from Pansy's cigarette, settling more comfortable on the bed.

„Hm,“ Pansy says. „Why?“

Draco hitches one shoulder and gives Pansy her cigarette back. „He doesn't want to.“

„Yet? Or doesn't want to, period?“

„I don't know,“ Draco admits. Pansy raises her brows, staring into nothingness.

„You must be really in love if you can accept that.“

Draco swallows and says nothing. They both know it means that Pansy is absolutely right.

Draco doesn't ask until they're a few months in. He never knows how. He's probably waiting for Harry to tell him, but Harry doesn't.

In the end, he can't bear it anymore. They're sitting on Harry's couch again and Draco pets Harry's dark, messy hair.

„Harry,“ he says.

„Hm-hm.“ Harry is half asleep. Draco suspects he's always sleep-deprived.

„Has anyone ever...“ He stops. How does one ask about such a thing?

Harry seems to sense where this is going, because the tension returns to his body. Draco combs his fingers through his hair.

„Have you been hurt?“ he finally settles on. It's less specific than his real question, but he knows that Harry will understand.

There is a long, long silence. Draco doesn't mind it. He's gotten used to it.

„I don't know,“ Harry finally says. „Hermione thinks so. If it's true, I don't remember it.“

Unsure how to continue, Draco waits a moment. Harry speaks first.

„You're asking because you want sex.“

„You know I want to sleep with you.“

Harry moves away. Draco catches his hand. „But I don't _need_ to.“ He can't believe he's saying this. He can't believe he means it.

All of this has started because he wanted to fuck Harry. And now there he is, telling him that he doesn't need sex.

What's truly mind-blowing is the fact that he's telling the truth. At least right here, right now, he believes that he doesn't need it if that means he gets to be with Harry.

Harry regards him out of his big, beautiful, wary eyes. Draco opens his arms. „Come here. Please.“

Harry does. Draco's arms close around him and he inhales the scent of his hair.

„I know it's not fair,“ Harry says. He's upset. Draco can hear it clearly. „I wish I could tell you – I promise, I'll try as soon as -“

„Hush,“ Draco says and kisses his hair. He is amazed at himself. At how utterly insignificant his own wishes appear compared to Harry's.

Harry puts a hand on Draco's belly. Turns his head and kisses his chest, the bone and flesh and skin over Draco's heart.

„You're crazy,“ Pansy says, but looks at Draco like she's proud of him.

„I know,“ Draco says and means it with every fiber of his being.

The first time Draco tries to touch Harry is a catastrophe. Harry freaks out and almost sets their whole flat on fire. It takes Draco hours to calm him down again. Then another hour until Harry stops apologizing.

It takes time. Time and tears and endless patience and the occasional breakdown until they're naked in bed together. Until Draco can say things like: „I want to suck you off,“ and „Merlin, you look gorgeous“ and „I dream about coming inside you,“ without scaring Harry.

Until Harry can finally touch Draco, kiss Draco, ask to be touched, without feeling filth all over his skin and setting things on fire.

But they get there. Harry knows now that he likes kneeling between Draco's legs and sucking him slowly until Draco is a _mess_ and starts tugging on his hair. He knows that he doesn't like it when Draco calls him names and he tells him so. He knows that he gets hard when Draco calls him _sweetheart_. But _darling_ or _love_ are brilliant as well.

Draco knows now that, whatever he used to say and prefer, he'd do anything to please Harry. He knows the way Harry likes to be touched – gentle but firm. He knows that Harry likes it when Draco bites the insides of his thighs, but will only ever lie down on his back. Never on his belly.

The first time Harry says he wants Draco to fuck him, Harry doesn't mean it. But Draco likes to hear it, comes for it, so he says it a lot.

Because of that, Draco doesn't expect it to happen anymore. He doesn't expect Harry to ever ask him for that. He doesn't touch Harry there, ever, and that's okay. He thinks that, maybe, one day, Harry might like to fuck Draco.

That's why Draco can't believe it when Harry whispers _fuck me_ , and means it.

They don't fuck that night. Of course they don't. But Harry flips over, even though Draco tells him he doesn't have to, and Draco kisses his way down Harry's spine, feeling him trembling.

„Tell me if it's too much,“ Draco says, wanting to be so, so gentle as he pushes Harry's knees apart.

He knows he's bad with it. Being gentle. It's not his thing.

But Harry teaches him.

„I'm happy if you're happy,“ Ron says. „But I'll never understand how it's Malfoy of all people.“

Harry smiles. „That's okay.“ Ron nods and clinks glasses with him.

„You look good,“ he tells Harry and Harry nods.

„I feel good.“

Draco will never know if Harry lied when he said he doesn't remember. He blieves Harry, but he also knows that Harry is actually quite good at lying to himself.

All Draco knows is that whenever he thinks of Harry, even if he hates his guts after another stupid row, there is a tender ache in his chest.

He proposes to Harry in their bedroom after Harry yelled at him that Draco is an arsehole, that he's always flirting with everyone, and Draco had known he was right and he had also felt with a bone-deep certainty, that he will always want to be with Harry. He knows that he probably won't ever stop being scared of it, too. But that's okay.

Harry's jaw drops as Draco says: „I want to marry you, arsehole.“

Harry stares at him unblinking. Then he says: „You're crazy.“

„So I've been told. Is that a yes?“

Harry smiles at him. Pulls him close and starts kissing his face. „Yes,“ he says.

Draco laughs. „Good.“

Harry pulls back. „I don't have a suit.“

„We'll buy one.“

That night, Harry has trouble falling asleep. Draco always notices.

„What is it?“ he asks, pulling Harry's body a little closer.

„I love you,“ Harry says. It's not the first time he says it, but it always sends a pleased shiver through Draco's body. He kisses Harry's neck. „I know.“

„Do you love me?“

It's an unexpected question.

„What a stupid question,“ Draco says. There is no louder truth in the world.

„Say it.“

„You're being ridiculous.“

Harry is quiet and Draco feels bad. They pretend they're asleep when both of them lie awake.

Draco doesn't say _I love you_. Not to anyone. If he loves someone, they know. Pansy knows. His mother knew it, too.

Harry should know it damn well, considering how hard Draco worked to make him fall in love with him.

He doesn't need to say it. He doesn't want to say it.

Harry accepts it, like Draco accepted it when Harry didn't want to have Draco's tongue in his mouth.

But now he does. Now Draco does all the things he accepted not being able to do.

And Harry doesn't ask again, but Draco can tell that he didn't forget about it. Not for a second.

Draco knows what Harry thinks. He knows he's spiralling, talking himself into believing that Draco has never loved him in the first place – that this is just about sex – that Draco will leave him – that Harry is worth nothing.

Draco knows. He knows Harry's heart better than his own.

Still it takes him weeks until he finally shatters. They're eating pasta after Draco shagged Harry on the kitchen table and Harry came without making a sound.

Now he's eating his pasta just as quiet and Draco drops his fork, staring daggers into Harry.

„Oh, for fuck's sake,“ he blurts. „I love you. Better now?“

When a slow, beautiful smile spreads over Harry's face, Draco feels his glare slip.

„Yes,“ Harry says, still smiling. „It's better now.“


End file.
